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Vanilla Bean Cream Stout was brewed with vanilla beans, nutmeg and non-fermentable sugar to give it a slightly sweet creaminess that reminded me of old-time ice cream parlors. Vintage signs are always fun so I went retro with it and even threw in a nice twisted creamy head on top of the stout. I feel like I should be wearing a paper hat.

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Old Soul Coffee Stout is a tribute to Charles Bukowski (1920-1994) the late great novelist, poet and short story writer. Buk was was known for his raw, edgy style and the brutal honesty he brought to all that he wrote. When asked for his thoughts on the meaning of life, Bukwoski replied "We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our education system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us."

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Bobby! Cindy! Bobby! Cindy! So, was Alice like an indentured servant to the Brady Bunch or something? Did they win her in a raffle at the Architect's Ball? I mean, even when the family went on vacation, Alice was always there with them but clearly on the clock. Even when she fulfilled her dream of seeing the Grand Canyon, she ended up with six asses to wipe along the way. Yes, Mr. Brady. Of course, Mrs. Brady. Whatever you need, six little Bradys. All that for a measly little mercy credit that sits awkwardly past the others to say "and Ann B. Davis as Alice." As if she were a mere footnote! She deserved better. That's all I'm saying. She deserved better. She deserved The Bitter Bunch. Yes, she did. Alice deserved a tasty-ass IPA made with a blend of six different hop varieties. That's what she deserved.

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MeatHead Bacon Dubbel label won the Silver Prize in Brew Your Own Magazine's Best Homebrew Beer Label 2016 contest. Not everyone gets the reference but old souls will. I even based the drabness of the background on the Bunker's living room decor.

DISCLAIMER: Rob Reiner is awesome so please don't sue me, sir. The world owes you a huge debt for bringing us This is Spinal Tap.

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Bad Little Gose Girl was adapted from an old pulp novel cover, undoubtedly a precautionary tale of some type. What our starlet didn't expect though is that in this tale her antagonists are the very ingredients that feed her obsession! Salt and Lemon and Limes, oh my! The wayward tart is a straight-up mess with her underthings in hand! She grinds away at the coriander under foot as she knows how the story must end...

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Pumpkin Party Massacre was designed as a result of a Halloween brewing collaboration between myself, Tony and Robb, my fellow mischief-makers. Being movie geeks, we spent brew night recollecting about the slasher genre that dominated horror in the eighties. No matter where the partially clothed young ladies decided to sleep for the night, you could be damned sure there was going to be a bloodbath of some type shortly after the third or fourth soapy shower scene. I'm amazed anyone would even consider going to a slumber party after seeing how much damage can be done with a gaffing hook and a set of Ginsus.

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Ok, so Dead Witness isn't exactly the feel-good label of the summer. I get it. It started as a simple play on words. Since the style was a Belgian Wit, it was a relatively short leap to the word Witness. Granted, the witness didn't HAVE to be Dead but she didn't have to be in the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time either. But she was...

This beer had quite a few unique qualities, all of which practically demanded to be mentioned on the marquee. It was a dry Irish red ale made with rye. I juggled the adjectives forward and back while throwing in a fistful of rye now and again. I found that The Red, The Rye and The Irish had a nice syllabic connection with Sergio Leone's The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. The concept was born. I love the look of the movie posters that advertised the entire Man with No Name trilogy. I kept the label bare-bones opting for silhouettes to minimize detail and to set a tone of starkness. The background was adapted from the Clash's Give 'em Enough Rope album cover continuing the theme of hanging that's so prevalent in the those spaghetti western classics.

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The addition of Rye to this IPA made such an impression that it made it to the title. Well, sort of. I was hoping to use Rye as a clever pun somehow, but instead coughed up the word "Rising" which as any irrational mind should know means that zombies are abound! The Undead RyeZing label was essentially a thinly veiled excuse to create a delightfully creepy landscape. The early riser on the right already has a slice of bread in hand and looks ready for breakfast!

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Slugworth Chocolate Stout was actually made with Hershey's chocolate but there's no hippy, trippy psychedelic movies based on Kisses with almonds so we ended up in Wonkaville. By the end of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, it's revealed that Wonka's arch rival Arthur Slugworth is actually the kind and gentle Mr. Wilkinson, one of the factory's fudge lords. That may have been what moviegoers wanted to see back in 1971 but I happen to enjoy a good cinematic villain wrecking havoc, now and again. Gotta keep the townsfolk on their toes, you know. And I'm pretty sure Slugworth had the sack to make it happen. He deserves his day in the sun, or at least on a label anyway despite his not sticking to the dark side.

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This Imperial Stout was a big, big beer that took no prisoners. The only thing I could think of that was big enough in power to score a suitable analogy was a giant, one-humped, robotic camel, or as George Lucas called them, Imperial Walkers. Since trampling the poor frozen eskimo families of Hoth, Wisconsin can be tiring work, there is now Imperial Walker All-Terrain Stout - because 10% is the perfect ABV for operating heavy machinery.

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Oh boy! What could be more fun than getting your face pressure washed with hot sauce?! That's right, someone else getting hosed instead. No, no, I mean Pepper Spray! Jalapeno Saison, of course. At least hot pepper juice is an organic face-melter when used to ward off society's more annoying members.

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A nice pale, wheat beer needed not only an interesting name, but one that represented one of our great nation's finest exports, racial epithets. Pale Face harkens back to the time of the Plymouth Rock settlers who just couldn't stay on their own side of the tracks with their loud music and boomboxes. They were met with arrows, tomahawks and ethnic slurs courtesy of the continent's then-current residents. Imagine the nerve of some people not receiving their brutal conquerors with more respect!

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Bad Autumn Day is one of several references my labels make to B-movies, Grindhouse films and exploitation flicks. It's just tongue-in-cheek, campy fun with a healthy dose of blood splatter and female nudity. I also love the shot-framing in Italian Giallo films. There's just a certain beauty in seeing a nice blood spattered cooking spork getting thrown through the air in slow motion and landing on a conveniently colored background that doesn't need a lot of work in Photoshop.

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What does Dark Corner mean to you? I suppose it could be a place to hide and to get away. Or perhaps, a sanctuary. A time-out from the world like a safe zone, of sorts. Decompress. Recharge. Silence. Inhale meets Exhale with nothing but time in between until you're ready to Reignite. ¡Viva la Revolución!

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Oddly enough, Black Honey Porter was actually supposed to be a maple syrup porter. As fate would have it though, I had a mental meltdown on aisle 7 and bought a jar of honey instead of maple syrup. I brewed with the substitute and liked the results. The label is a total homage to the blaxploitation film genre of the seventies. I don't think Pam Grier ever made a movie called Black Honey but if she did, you could bet your ass it would be awesome. Besides, she has a black belt in bar stools.

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A hell of a lot of roasted peanuts went into NutHouse Porter. About 2-1/4 pounds of shelled nuts were shoveled forcefully down the gullet of a 4 gallon batch of beer. That's 40 bottles of porter with 36 ounces of peanuts smeared across them. Now, I'm not going to risk life and limb by attempting some dangerous mathematical trick just to make the numbers happy. At the end of the day we're somewhere in the ballpark of "a little less" than an ounce of peanuts in each bottle. I know so because the pseudo-calculation told me so. I was hoping to provide a more accurate number but quite frankly, math makes me break out in rashes and hives. Then again, maybe I have a peanut allergy.....

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Another precautionary tale. Our blonde friend should've been happy enough to bunk with her bitches and giggle all night as they indulge the hours in Naked LubriDerm Twister. But that wasn't enough. Some girls always need more. On this night, she'll learn the for the first and last time not to steal feminine supplies from her friend's medicine cabinet.

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Anthony Salmeri
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